Soul Siphon: Set includes four books: Midnight Blade, Kingsbane, Ash and Steel, Sentinels of the Stone (Soul Stones)

by T. L. Branson

  “What of the queen? Did it work?” Callum asked.

  “For Iket’s sake, Callum, stop with the questions and do as I ask,” Drygo said.

  Callum left and returned a moment later with one of the young maids. The king admitted her but kept Callum and the others on the outside. He locked the door. They all crowded the door and tried to listen.

  The king spoke softly. Ocken couldn’t decipher the words. Drygo let out a loud yell, something fragile crashed against the wall, shattering into several pieces. The door unlocked and sprang open. They jumped back. The maid ran from the room in a fright.

  Callum hesitated and then stepped through the open door followed by Ocken and Khate. The king sat on the bedside chair, his head in his hands. A broken lamp lay on the floor, oil spilling from it.

  “My king?” Callum asked.

  “It didn’t work,” Drygo said. “She’s dead.”

  Ocken’s heart plummeted. Nothing. It had all been for nothing. Ocken couldn’t take it anymore. He thought of everyone who lost their lives because of this quest. Bigsby, Odum, Doyle, Stevens, Geoffreys, Tulias, Lind, and now Evangeline.

  And Thren.

  Stratton. He would kill Stratton for what happened to Thren.

  “No,” Khate said in disbelief.

  Callum stepped up beside Drygo and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “I was gone when she needed me most, and it didn’t even work,” the king said.

  “You had no way of knowing, sire. If there was a chance at saving her, you had to take it. I would have done the same for Chelsea,” he reassured him.

  “No,” Khate said again, fighting back tears. “You did this. You did this to her!”

  Khate launched herself at the king. Ocken grabbed her around the waist, holding her back.

  “Let go of me!” she yelled.

  Ocken released her and she ran from the room.

  ***

  Khate wiped the tears from her eyes and ran back to her room to gather her things. She was leaving. There was nothing for her here anymore.

  She wasn’t a princess and she wasn’t the queen. If there was no salvation for her sister, there was certainly no salvation for her. She wasn’t going to sit here and let others feel sorry for her or coddle her. Khate was done.

  She would leave Sunbury. Find a new home, one where nobody knew her. A home where she could live in peace for the rest of her days.

  ***

  Ocken thought about chasing after Khate, but he wanted to deal with Stratton.

  Drygo sat before him, consumed with grief.

  Ocken didn’t know how the king would react, but he knew he couldn’t kill Stratton on his own, the council would call for his head for murder, and in Drygo’s current state of mind he wasn’t sure if he would placate them.

  “Sire,” Ocken said.

  Drygo lifted his head.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but we have a problem,” Ocken said.

  Drygo furrowed his brow.

  “Stratton, sire,” he said.

  Ocken closed his eyes, waiting for the litany of curses and rebukes of inconsideration. A chair groaned as it slid back an inch, but no cursing followed it.

  Ocken opened his eyes. Grim determination had replaced his grief. His sorrow became rage as he marched from the room, Callum and Ocken right behind him.

  It was midday. Council would be in session. They descended to the second floor and down the hall to the council chambers.

  Drygo threw the doors wide and stepped into the room.

  Heads turned to see who would dare interrupt their proceedings. Gasps sounded across the room.

  Stratton, sitting in the king’s chair, bolted to his feet.

  “Alexander!” Stratton exclaimed.

  A few council members sucked in their breath.

  Drygo said, “You mean, Your Majesty.”

  “I’m sorry to say that Sunbury is no longer your kingdom, Alexander. We all just agreed and signed this edict declaring you unfit for service,” Stratton said, holding up a document. “I have been appointed king in your stead.”

  “I wonder if they all would have agreed to your coup had they known you sent assassins to kill us,” Ocken spat.

  More gasps erupted from the councilors.

  “Is this true?” the commerce advisor demanded.

  Stratton shifted from side to side. “Baseless accusations.”

  “After his failed attempt to kill the king, your man Antony squealed like a pig—before I executed him. My brother died because of you,” Ocken spat. He moved to kill Stratton, but Callum grabbed his arm, restraining him.

  Callum pulled him close and whispered, “This is the king’s battle. Justice will be served, but not by your hand.”

  Ocken seethed, but Callum was right. He would stand down and watch how this played out.

  “I am the rightful king of Sunbury,” Drygo said.

  “Your father was the rightful king,” Stratton enunciated. “You have done nothing but drag our kingdom down since taking the throne. And then you go off on some ridiculous quest, chasing legends—without telling us, mind you—and for what? By all accounts, the queen died a half an hour ago. Now? You are no longer king.”

  Stratton waved the edict in the air.

  “Edicts issued in my absence are null and void according to Sunbury law,” Drygo said with authority. “Unless proof of my death is plain. But here I stand before you.”

  “This edict was not drawn up in your absence, but was passed just moments before you entered the room,” Stratton said. “Each and every member of this council was fully aware of your return upon signing. They all believe you unfit to serve our kingdom.”

  “You murderous traitor,” Drygo said. “I’ll have your head for treason. Better yet, I’ll have your soul.”

  Drygo’s eyes turned black. One of the women let out a scream when she saw it. Stratton stood paralyzed as Drygo stalked toward him.

  “It’s worse than I thought,” Stratton said, laughing nervously. Then gaining confidence he said, “You’ve picked up some sort of disease. Surely the council will—”

  Drygo’s hand around his throat cut off whatever words were coming next. Stratton choked and winced, clawing to get free.

  Then the screams started. Screams from Stratton. Screams from the council. Even Ocken found himself letting out a small sound as he watched Stratton’s own eyes turn black, that now familiar black webbing climbing out from them. Just as with Geoffreys, color fled from his face and he turned white.

  But unlike Geoffreys, Drygo was in total control. What happened to Geoffreys was a fluke, an accident. But what now took place before him could not be deemed anything but cold, hard retribution.

  Drygo tossed Stratton’s empty shell of a body to the floor.

  “Now,” Drygo said, turning to the council. “You all agreed… did you?”

  Ocken had seen enough. He turned, walked through the council doors, and closed them behind him.

  Muffled screams filled the hall as he left.

  Ocken was conflicted. What the king was doing scared him. Horrified him. Appalled him. But he didn’t feel sorry for them. Didn’t feel sorry for Stratton. Couldn’t feel sorry for him. Yet, his heart still grieved. Stratton’s death did not close up the hole that was left by the death of Thren.

  Only one person seemed to do that for him, and he let her leave. Ocken descended the stairs to the first floor of the palace and walked through the gates. He turned to the guard posted on duty there.

  “Have you seen Khate?” he asked.

  “She tore out of ’ere in a hurry about five minutes ago. Left the palace,” the guard said. “Looked like she was leavin’ Sunbury by the amount of stuff she had with her.”

  “Thanks,” he said, taking off at a run.

  He wound through the busy streets. Merchants stood behind portable stalls, peddling their wares. Young hired hands wheeled carts through the streets, transporting crates of all sizes. Men and women bustled th
rough the crowds, going about their day.

  Ocken didn’t have time to wait in the slow shuffle. He pushed his way through, shoving aside lords and ladies alike. He didn’t care. He had one thought on his mind: find Khate.

  Curses and threats followed him as he continued to the city gates, arriving just in time. Khate was saddling a horse at the stables outside the city.

  “Where are you going?” Ocken demanded.

  “What’s it matter to you?” she said, her face red from the tears.

  Ocken sucked in his breath. It was now or never. He was about to lose the one woman he cared about if he didn’t come up with something.

  “It matters because… well, because I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

  She stopped saddling the horse and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “You…are falling in love with me?”

  Ocken held his breath, waiting for her response.

  She went back to her saddling and sighed.

  “I told you,” Khate said. “I told you that I wasn’t interested. Whatever feelings you think you have for me, they aren’t real. I can’t be loved.”

  “What?” Ocken scoffed. “Of course you can be loved.”

  “Look, you don’t get it,” she said. “There’s no future with me. Not a happy one anyway.”

  Ocken said, “But—”

  “There’s a reason I went along with you all, and it’s not because I’m good with a knife,” Khate explained. “Evangeline and I are sisters. We share the same blood.”

  Ocken stared at her, not following.

  “I’m pregnant,” she said at last.

  “You’re what?” he said. His mouth was hanging open.

  “You heard me,” she said.

  “Who’s the father?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” she said. “The point is I’m bound to die in childbirth just like Evangeline. And without that stone… I don’t need to tell you what happens.”

  “Wait. I mean, you have like eight months, right?” Ocken asked. “We can still get it.”

  “No,” she said.

  He opened his mouth to speak.

  “No,” she said again. “Look at how many people died for this. Just, no.”

  She finished tying the straps and mounted her horse.

  “Goodbye, Ocken,” she said.

  She turned her horse and started walking up the escarpment out of the city.

  “At least tell me where you’re going!” he called out.

  But she didn’t. She left him there, with an ache in his heart and emptiness in his soul. He had survived a thousand deaths, but it made little difference as the light of his life walked away before him.

  ASH AND STEEL

  The door shook from the incessant pounding of the man on the other side. Alexander Selenius Drygo, King of Sunbury, ignored it.

  He sat at a desk in his private study, holding a large, black diamond. A bouquet of flowers from his wife’s funeral lay wilting on the desk next to a pink bow and a half-eaten chunk of roast beef on a silver platter.

  The diamond consumed his attention. He turned it over in his hand and ran a finger across the rough edges of a fiery heart engraved on the diamond’s largest face. Beneath the surface, a swirl of black and blue writhed and flowed like a raging river.

  The knocking at the door continued.

  “Your Majesty, I know you’re in there,” shouted a muffled voice through the thick, mahogany door.

  Drygo still did not answer. His eyes shifted from the diamond to the open balcony door. Night reigned, but flickers of orange and yellow flooded the room. Shouts and cries drifted in on the heels of the clang of steel on steel.

  “Your Majesty,” the voice continued, “she’s dead. I know this is difficult for you, but your people need you.”

  He clutched the diamond in the palm of his hand and let out a loud sigh. The grand marshal was right of course. There was little he could do for his wife now, and the city burned around him.

  The chair groaned as it slid away from the desk. Despite the situation, Drygo advanced slowly on the door to the palace. His chainmail rustled beneath his steel plate armor and his boots clanged with each step.

  Drygo turned the lock, its click echoing throughout the room. He swung the door wide on silent hinges and beheld Davion Callum, Grand Marshal of the Royal Guard. Soot marred his face, a trickle of sweat leaving a streak down his cheek.

  “Report,” Drygo said, pushing off his grief as he turned to the matter at hand.

  “It’s Havan, sire,” Callum said. “I’m afraid the kingdom is lost. We evacuated as many citizens as we could via boat. I know you’re loathe to leave, but we really must get out of here, now.”

  “Where is Maya?”

  “The princess left on the first boat, along with her nurse mother. She is safely away.”

  The king slipped the diamond into a small leather pouch at his waist.

  “My sword?” Drygo asked.

  One of Callum’s men stepped forward and knelt before the king, Drygo’s massive broadsword and sheath resting atop outstretched hands. A striking red dragon wrapped around the grip. Its head made up the pommel, mouth wide holding a brilliant ruby between its jaws.

  The king took the sword and slung the sheath over his shoulder, the hilt reaching above his shoulders.

  “Let’s go,” the king said.

  Callum nodded and the royal guard moved into formation around their king. They marched through the corridors, descended several levels, and advanced on the palace doors. As they stepped into the grand entrance hall, the large double doors leading to the city burst open.

  The shing of swords being drawn and the heavy pounding of boots filled the room. Soldiers wearing the blue and gold colors of Havan filed in around Drygo and his men as Sunbury’s royal guard pulled in closer to their king.

  The enemy dispensed with formality and charged at the king and his entourage. The royal guard fanned out and faced the enemy in combat. Steel met steel.

  A spike of fear coursed through Drygo’s veins. He turned his head from side to side, looking for a way out. The only exit from the palace was through the doors in front of him. He made a mental note to remedy that when he returned.

  If I return, he thought.

  No.

  He couldn’t afford to think like that. He would return. He would survive. He had to survive, for the sake of his kingdom, for his daughter and his wife.

  Enemy soldiers continued to pour in through the palace doors. Callum let out a yell and surged forward, the guard closing up the hole in his wake.

  But it was no use, there were simply too many of them, and soon the enemy advanced on the king. His fear turned to adrenaline followed by a surge of excitement.

  Drygo steeled himself and slid his sword from its sheath, gripped its solid hilt in both hands, and prepared for the coming onslaught.

  The first soldier came, but Drygo dodged his swing and sliced his great sword clean through the man’s leather armor. Another soldier rushed at him and met a similar fate.

  They continued to come and continued to die. The grace and skill of his royal guard provided a strong defense. A surge of pride filled Drygo’s heart as he fought alongside such fine men.

  “We must get out of here,” Callum shouted above the din. “Wedge formation. Push through the gates.”

  Callum moved to block the door and stem the flow of soldiers into the room. He took point. The royal guard finished their opponents and moved into position.

  Drygo stalked through the door of the palace on the heels of Callum and his men.

  Flames rose up above city rooftops. Black smoke billowed high into the sky. The metallic smell of blood mixed with that of burning wood.

  It pained Drygo to see his city burn. Grief turned into rage and Drygo broke rank to approach the horde of soldiers in the streets head on.

  “My king!” Callum shouted, moving to intercept him.

  “Either join me or be cleaved in two, Callum, I’l
l not suffer the rats to live.”

  A smile rose on Callum’s face. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said. He backed away and called to his men, “You heard the king. Let’s make Havan rue the day they invaded our land.”

  The men ran through the courtyard and into the streets, meeting their attackers with a chorus of singing steel. All around them, the red and black of Sunbury clashed with the blue and gold of Havan.

  One of Sunbury’s soldiers caught sight of the king and did a double take. His momentary distraction almost cost him his life. His opponent’s sword came down, but Drygo lunged forward, blocking the enemy’s blade with his own. The king shoved him off, swung, and separated the man’s head from his body.

  “Your Majesty,” his own soldier said, eyes wide. He issued a silent thank you and rushed back into battle shouting, “For the king! For Sunbury!”

  All around him, the chorus rose up. Shoulders straightened, heads lifted, and swords swung faster, heavier, stronger. Where moments ago spirits had been dashed, the fire in their hearts rekindled.

  Drygo advanced in the wake of the carnage. An explosion rocked the street. Stone blew apart as a building crumbled ahead. The king looked away and shielded his eyes. All around him, men stumbled and fell as the ground shook beneath them.

  Knowing they must find and kill Havan’s commander if they had any hope of stanching the flow of blood this day, Drygo left the street and walked through the door of a nursery. The roof would be flat, higher than the rest of the buildings so the plants could receive sunlight. Ascending the steps two at a time, he emerged on the roof and waded through the trees and bushes to a clear vantage point.

  His eyes scanned the horizon. Sunbury’s magnificent palace sat against a sheer cliff behind him. To his right, Havan’s soldiers continued to file down the narrow road along the escarpment that led into the city. A volley of arrows rose up from the rooftops, striking the soldiers descending into the city. A soldier screamed as he fell off and plummeted to his death.

  Drygo turned to the west. In the harbor of Sunbury’s Coral Cove, the banner flying Havan’s colors and marking the commander’s location, stood between Drygo and the bay. The invaders sought to prevent Drygo’s escape, but he couldn’t know the king had no intention to retreat.